tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72842825209842308122024-02-07T11:18:05.556-08:00eleven birdieskalihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06755948726063673163noreply@blogger.comBlogger121125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284282520984230812.post-56799747911874825282011-05-24T14:38:00.000-07:002011-05-24T14:39:32.813-07:00to just beLately, I have been learning to just be. Did you know that it takes practice?<br />One of my good guy friends recently told me, “You are all up here,” while pointing to my head. He is right. The trouble with being so analytical, so inquisitive, so thought-full, is that it makes it really hard to just be.<br />And I really want to learn how to just be.<br />When I was in the fourth grade, my teacher used to read Encyclopedia Brown to the class. You had to pay attention to every little detail to find the one that unlocked the mystery. (Which were disclosed at the end of each little story.) I don’t remember what this one particular mystery was about, but I remember that I would just burst with the answers- the ridiculous kid hand stretched high. I knew she couldn’t pick me every time. But one time, nobody else had the answer. I answered. And Mrs. Woodman said, “How did you know that?!? You have a great brain.”<br />It was the first time someone told me that I was smart and I knew it.<br />Can I train my churning brain to quiet enough to just be?<br />I’ve been trying. I have been stretching myself. I’ve been forcing myself to exist inside of moments without analyzing them to pieces. I’ve been forcing myself to cling to the scripture that says something like each day has its own worries… I googled it:<br />Matthew 6:34 (New International Version)<br />34 Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.<br /><br />Yeah. Beautiful moments. I have had many lately. And I know myself well enough to know that I have to make myself exist in them, or I won’t fully experience them. I have heard people talk about how in their own beautiful moments time stands still. I can’t be absolutely sure, but I think I might have experienced that for the first time. It was just utterly beautiful. I just existed. I felt bliss and joy and happy and peaceful and I was speechless.<br />I didn’t think about what summer program I am going to enroll Brooklyn in, and what those deadlines are. Or that I need to get my tail light fixed. Or forwarding my mail. Or my best friend who was betrayed by her fiancé of seven years. Or my other best friend who was about to lose her days old niece whose body wasn’t made for this world.<br />I am grateful that I am learning to just be. It truly is a gift.kalihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06755948726063673163noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284282520984230812.post-25719845501650297482011-04-21T22:13:00.000-07:002011-04-21T23:03:31.777-07:00We're moving!Hello friends.<br /><br />I have loved my little corner of the internet here at eleven birdies. I love my seven followers! Unfortunately, I have to relocate. It is for my safety and my girls' safety.<br /><br />If you want to continue to touch base with us, please email me at <a href="mailto:elevenbirdies@gmail.com">elevenbirdies@gmail.com</a> and I will provide you with our new address. :) I know this blog has been a bit stale for some time now and I haven't done well keeping it updated, but its about to get REALLY good. So please email me!<br /><br />love to y'all!!kalihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06755948726063673163noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284282520984230812.post-21852456614238918502011-04-20T08:30:00.001-07:002011-04-20T08:48:39.291-07:00sell. buy.My garage sale went well, considering the weather only allowed us one day of sales. While it was good to get rid of so much, it did tug at my heart a bit. I sold furniture I spent time painting and baby shoes and clothes... you know, that kind of thing. The good part? Now I want to buy things for my new place...<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj82KX7g3W0Jiv7Zl6eRBoITL3i1_AcdmezBHCKpOQxuF-LXT28_R1ciHBnebSlRXigqYFOT21BeqLRE3Ek6pHEBgQSVQopwgqWsH6YG42mlemUJhPSOfb4eT-pEQZSTUZLW0FmhD8lzNE/s1600/img21t.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 165px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 132px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597689052983300418" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj82KX7g3W0Jiv7Zl6eRBoITL3i1_AcdmezBHCKpOQxuF-LXT28_R1ciHBnebSlRXigqYFOT21BeqLRE3Ek6pHEBgQSVQopwgqWsH6YG42mlemUJhPSOfb4eT-pEQZSTUZLW0FmhD8lzNE/s400/img21t.jpg" /></a><br />Le Creuset is way out of this girls budget. Why does a woman have to get married to get the things she needs for her home? Can you smell the pot roast cooking in this thing?<br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIw51sSGDsS7mUS7WM04DwR3GkRanD0S7LRd1_u8_Zk8Ifd-pccbgrLQAmAsJerDWIsmYLm-_KKULjbMq3v2gVoD5y0dOrF19Jye3tCECC9IOgww8zii5vq9l3w0GE0BaWjUdtz-u8xnQ/s1600/img27t.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 165px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 132px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597689052015958178" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIw51sSGDsS7mUS7WM04DwR3GkRanD0S7LRd1_u8_Zk8Ifd-pccbgrLQAmAsJerDWIsmYLm-_KKULjbMq3v2gVoD5y0dOrF19Jye3tCECC9IOgww8zii5vq9l3w0GE0BaWjUdtz-u8xnQ/s400/img27t.jpg" /></a><br />Anthro. How I love thee. Let me count the ways.... sheets... dishes... dresses...boots...purses...<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3qYSSxioxo773CSu7cX6qkLeuEfgJEeLatF-HyXn3Q-vJmztgRWjk2EYiK8r49A-GB4cR493NNn5j3ozYVeO5lB_DVFtwskqkcvH5CgzC07jUmrhqS0TABHMaiqC0s0qDaPVPBdLr4jQ/s1600/993339_095_b.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 360px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597689045448860082" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3qYSSxioxo773CSu7cX6qkLeuEfgJEeLatF-HyXn3Q-vJmztgRWjk2EYiK8r49A-GB4cR493NNn5j3ozYVeO5lB_DVFtwskqkcvH5CgzC07jUmrhqS0TABHMaiqC0s0qDaPVPBdLr4jQ/s400/993339_095_b.jpg" /></a> I do have a gift card to anthropologie that I got from my brother at Christmas...hmmmm...<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9MWEbhgu2h4O-bLq79Mc-qFmJRe9Mq0ls2bol6tsiQ3DT_e2wjE34rEz0c2lj4oeVqMZtDvZc88dQ6vhhlhlp44JWrIaQG-1FLwaDbK_34VYfSyjc0nZFrL3PvoZiwRtdaBX8aEN5bCM/s1600/973328_090_b.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 268px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597689045395911746" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9MWEbhgu2h4O-bLq79Mc-qFmJRe9Mq0ls2bol6tsiQ3DT_e2wjE34rEz0c2lj4oeVqMZtDvZc88dQ6vhhlhlp44JWrIaQG-1FLwaDbK_34VYfSyjc0nZFrL3PvoZiwRtdaBX8aEN5bCM/s400/973328_090_b.jpg" /></a><br />Did I tell you I have a job interview today? I'm excited. And a little bit nervous. It is with a great company... with a mission that I can stand behind. Did I tell you I desperately need this job? Well, I do.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYM5t161V_kb2ZUUTvLiz9e-5L-KimXtrv1V6B53Zcq4E3Q3XvfK_SFHZvg4pR28sps42-eEmmKpk83u4Wz-fT-rzH1nYAWC5kQmZxJNtyabbwQUGZSxdHy7Zmbn8uci2vO0bpSRz3rXQ/s1600/41-2B2cBkGL__AA300_.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597689043327538114" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYM5t161V_kb2ZUUTvLiz9e-5L-KimXtrv1V6B53Zcq4E3Q3XvfK_SFHZvg4pR28sps42-eEmmKpk83u4Wz-fT-rzH1nYAWC5kQmZxJNtyabbwQUGZSxdHy7Zmbn8uci2vO0bpSRz3rXQ/s400/41-2B2cBkGL__AA300_.jpg" /></a><br /><br />I also need this coffee pot. One thing I want to do at my new place, is have a variety of things to drink for the people that come over. I've always wanted to be like, "Can I get you something to drink?" and then have lots of choices... I know. Sounds silly. It feels like such a grown up thing to do. </div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div>I hope that your spring has been lovely. Truly lovely. And that you find yourself smiling a lot.</div></div></div></div>kalihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06755948726063673163noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284282520984230812.post-67018981810783158312011-04-11T11:51:00.000-07:002011-04-12T08:47:11.464-07:00parenting and vulnerabilityThere are so many decisions to make as a parent. Some carry more weight than we could possibly realize, while others we agonize over because there are so many fears attached to them. Being a parent seems to be the ultimate form of vulnerability. As Charlotte naps, and I listen to her little sleeping snores, I take comfort in her peacefulness. When your daughter is three, your toughest hurdles are being patient with her fierce independence, staying calm during her meltdowns, and knowing when to take the Minky away. When your daughter is three, she loves to be next to you. If you are lucky, she sings you songs and finds her way to where ever you are just to tuck her little hand in yours. Now, when your daughter is seven, well... that is a different story. When your daughter is seven, your hurdles are teaching her personal responsibility, and how beautiful she is, how God loves her, and how to ward off the nastiness at school that starts entirely to early. You make sure she does her homework, and that she understands it. You make sure you provide her with self-confidence boosting activities, like soccor or painting. You try to never forget that she is always watching. You are the example by which she will model what it means to be a woman. You hope, beyond all hope, that by the Grace of God you can raise her well despite yourself. And when she is presented with a choice, and makes the right one, you start to understand how the last seven years have been spent shaping a pretty amazing human being. Then you can take comfort in knowing you did something right. I had to stop and save this post, and much later in the day my bff Emily sent me a video clip of somebody speaking on vulnerability.<br /><object width="446" height="326"><param name="movie" value="http://video.ted.com/assets/player/swf/EmbedPlayer.swf"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"><param name="wmode" value="transparent"><param name="bgColor" value="#ffffff"><param name="flashvars" value="vu=http://video.ted.com/talks/dynamic/BreneBrown_2010X-medium.flv&su=http://images.ted.com/images/ted/tedindex/embed-posters/BreneBrown-2010X.embed_thumbnail.jpg&vw=432&vh=240&ap=0&ti=1042&lang=eng&introDuration=15330&adDuration=4000&postAdDuration=830&adKeys=talk=brene_brown_on_vulnerability;year=2010;theme=new_on_ted_com;theme=how_the_mind_works;theme=a_taste_of_tedx;theme=what_makes_us_happy;event=What+Makes+Us+Happy%3F;tag=Culture;tag=communication;tag=social+change;&preAdTag=tconf.ted/embed;tile=1;sz=512x288;"><br /> <embed src="http://video.ted.com/assets/player/swf/EmbedPlayer.swf" pluginspace="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" bgcolor="#ffffff" width="446" height="326" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" flashvars="vu=http://video.ted.com/talks/dynamic/BreneBrown_2010X-medium.flv&su=http://images.ted.com/images/ted/tedindex/embed-posters/BreneBrown-2010X.embed_thumbnail.jpg&vw=432&vh=240&ap=0&ti=1042&lang=eng&introDuration=15330&adDuration=4000&postAdDuration=830&adKeys=talk=brene_brown_on_vulnerability;year=2010;theme=new_on_ted_com;theme=how_the_mind_works;theme=a_taste_of_tedx;theme=what_makes_us_happy;event=What+Makes+Us+Happy%3F;tag=Culture;tag=communication;tag=social+change;"></embed></object>Funny how that works, huh? In case you don't watch it, she speaks on connection. And how one must be accepting of vulnerability in order to be connected. Connection leads to whole-heartedness. Whole-heartedness exists among people who have the courage to be seen, to be vulnerable. It really is a great speech and worth watching. The gal studied people for ten years to arrive at some of her conclusions. It is nice to have research on things like this. So maybe vulnerability is just the space in which we need love? Love from God, from family, from friends... Maybe vulnerability is the space in which I need to love myself? Parenting, and being authentic, are two things I want to be good at.kalihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06755948726063673163noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284282520984230812.post-43618231997375997022011-04-06T21:08:00.000-07:002011-04-06T22:25:37.268-07:00home is wherever i'm with youRecently, I found a pair of matching twin beds at goodwill. $20 each. I think I want to paint them. It is always exciting for me to find something I set out for, and in great condition, and at such a great price. I was originally inspired by this girlie room over at the <a href="http://homeandharmony.blogspot.com/">home and harmony blog</a>.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6AdoYyiSBfjpekuo0EgQxAyTLyd9KaSryhN4qnhGS3YhySSkXLZ-rkQQ6xl7qPzFQGfpF2NGPFJVtwzzJ4DVoyJKV-vss9c2d1cITcr2L0vrXA9ZQ3lBUyHeE0BT5rkFKX63xXRnUJbg/s1600/nightable3.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 301px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592691149569419458" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6AdoYyiSBfjpekuo0EgQxAyTLyd9KaSryhN4qnhGS3YhySSkXLZ-rkQQ6xl7qPzFQGfpF2NGPFJVtwzzJ4DVoyJKV-vss9c2d1cITcr2L0vrXA9ZQ3lBUyHeE0BT5rkFKX63xXRnUJbg/s400/nightable3.jpg" /></a> Did I tell you that the girls and I are moving? I am so excited for many reasons. I love the area. I love the location. I love the hardwood floors. And the affordable rent. <br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWlG97k8NrNMFYOHCPOoYSc85EHzrHMLobibuk30L3iPpXWHJEg2ngxT_T1zT-0gT-trtWwwgYNbE5Lobm_G3lJHp8B2lyCMzP1ooCeynpDziKI3qxZZqbtEW5bvf3vYXxH3wp0fQrj1U/s1600/light.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 279px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592689279219300146" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWlG97k8NrNMFYOHCPOoYSc85EHzrHMLobibuk30L3iPpXWHJEg2ngxT_T1zT-0gT-trtWwwgYNbE5Lobm_G3lJHp8B2lyCMzP1ooCeynpDziKI3qxZZqbtEW5bvf3vYXxH3wp0fQrj1U/s400/light.jpg" /></a> Most of all, I love the fresh start it will be for the girls and I. I feel bold. I feel like really great change is just around the corner for the three of us. We love our home. But there are lots of memories, and guilt, and family ties... that all just had me craving change. There was a <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">sord</span> of incredible series of events, and now the girls and I have our own little place. <br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyxIzuK9vTYxkABH_JDzPXXFkwqeDDshUiZBrjhTBbSyB_maqXCXr6v-nNHxv2wZqSAz4ec0FDA1iPsZEfPWQPthx3oQIVgX2fzPx2hoBcG9MEmPUSVNezj5gc20iE1S3iz9dT3rCEek4/s1600/12212238_p6cP5zqR_c.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 290px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592689089567972242" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyxIzuK9vTYxkABH_JDzPXXFkwqeDDshUiZBrjhTBbSyB_maqXCXr6v-nNHxv2wZqSAz4ec0FDA1iPsZEfPWQPthx3oQIVgX2fzPx2hoBcG9MEmPUSVNezj5gc20iE1S3iz9dT3rCEek4/s400/12212238_p6cP5zqR_c.jpg" /></a> Our new place is A LOT smaller than our current home. Which means we will have to get rid of a lot of stuff. It is a a relief to get rid of things, but it is also bittersweet. Tonight I went through my linen cabinet and edited down my linens. I filled a huge box with beautiful vintage sheets and such, all going into the massive sale of 2011. <br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuCbDshbJO6VaL7Sh7vTnM9Mi43pRqhnptuVOBByJXzisWIvBirAmRvJnXC54EDqRa1N5hC0TlZz2S5mVfg2bWdQoq1xMgPQzSvJ6MYhaedfM9THMoeKhxm7Po-SlDtNRgfwfMHQ9JqtA/s1600/9889246_iDJqYdYE_b.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 192px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592689091032932386" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuCbDshbJO6VaL7Sh7vTnM9Mi43pRqhnptuVOBByJXzisWIvBirAmRvJnXC54EDqRa1N5hC0TlZz2S5mVfg2bWdQoq1xMgPQzSvJ6MYhaedfM9THMoeKhxm7Po-SlDtNRgfwfMHQ9JqtA/s400/9889246_iDJqYdYE_b.jpg" /></a> I went through my creative space. I had to pick my most favorite things. The millinery, the antique buttons, the ephemera stays. Many old baby clothes, jewelry boxes, sewing notions... they will make their way to the sale. <br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSjhSDtnaxuAzLsIsxfeNbMiQwFaLW5PALzGOV7PwO8uU0guw7RzpAvRNSZOVZRj8gKy_i13n8kXy3IcnO22Rir3QwLCgNPAQulY_ZPuy-r2o4Ct5EjSpTv3INB3DTNW61aTOAX-3ZhAU/s1600/9087693_mK3Y6JGR_b.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 192px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 289px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592689084546169538" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSjhSDtnaxuAzLsIsxfeNbMiQwFaLW5PALzGOV7PwO8uU0guw7RzpAvRNSZOVZRj8gKy_i13n8kXy3IcnO22Rir3QwLCgNPAQulY_ZPuy-r2o4Ct5EjSpTv3INB3DTNW61aTOAX-3ZhAU/s400/9087693_mK3Y6JGR_b.jpg" /></a> I really want to only have what we need, and then our absolute favorite things that we want. I am also looking at this as an opportunity to change up my decorating style a bit. More color. More unexpected items. Branch out into more straight lines. Maybe this is a reflection of how I am feeling these days? <br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1vNiyNjIwyAo99JYu0MMDa8zNf94A0KuWejEWZiinTZfcsuG2D-1Mn39ETbwSjofrHXiEtBbJqnGlFTcTxAI7AvnQ5u3MFCutiu7UcED-oKg9Ph2fc495fMd-0lcyeR2JWrfVF4Zggfs/s1600/8280710_znJ42Zax_b.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 191px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 245px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592689080766574274" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1vNiyNjIwyAo99JYu0MMDa8zNf94A0KuWejEWZiinTZfcsuG2D-1Mn39ETbwSjofrHXiEtBbJqnGlFTcTxAI7AvnQ5u3MFCutiu7UcED-oKg9Ph2fc495fMd-0lcyeR2JWrfVF4Zggfs/s400/8280710_znJ42Zax_b.jpg" /></a> I am so excited to go for walks in our new neighborhood. I am even more excited to have friends over for dinner... and wine... and laugh until our cheeks hurt. I want my mom to hop on over during her lunch, and I can make her fresh salads and great coffee from the spice merchant. <br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcC3CE4igzhASUX6_8U1u_LB_mXvCnrGmCD7ejL6ZERzKZwCmBFTGb3LMk_hskR-pE0Qvypxrtar2V51PzI_T3eTF96eYDn1YZWWHrH-sxS2ZbFOuaLWZFcrbMOfIgf31zlcsQ4PzJRDc/s1600/7696793_IYJ3A9cL_b.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 192px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 192px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592689082541497266" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcC3CE4igzhASUX6_8U1u_LB_mXvCnrGmCD7ejL6ZERzKZwCmBFTGb3LMk_hskR-pE0Qvypxrtar2V51PzI_T3eTF96eYDn1YZWWHrH-sxS2ZbFOuaLWZFcrbMOfIgf31zlcsQ4PzJRDc/s400/7696793_IYJ3A9cL_b.jpg" /></a> In my early twenties, home meant somewhere permanent. All I wanted to do is have my girls and raise them in the same home their whole lives. I wanted the white picket fence. The marriage. The house. And then I think I learned a little bit about what "home" means. I noticed I felt at home in Emily's little apartment, with uneven floors, pretty art, and more stuff than space. I noticed I felt at home at Vanessa's house. Always clean. With bold and bright colors, and more pictures of animals than humans. I felt at home sitting around her little table, eating dinner as a family. I felt at home sitting on a blanket in Emily's beautiful back yard, eating pasta and drinking wine. I felt at home, sitting on my mom's sofa and drinking hot coffee, watching her favorite shows. Home is not the pretty little picture that our culture would have us think it is. Home is so much more than that.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>There are a lot of really cool things about my new little place. Don't worry, I'll share pictures. But the best part, is having the chance to<em> make a home</em>... to make memories... to be a family.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div><br /><div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>kalihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06755948726063673163noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284282520984230812.post-79492387977650449832011-04-04T22:07:00.000-07:002011-04-04T23:23:06.009-07:00green eyes + beauty mark = my favorite parts of my face<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5eHNt3KgcDym1IVGAVFV82IU66DF9CMJenmleh4fTZxUwgFbSMMK5j9YUOMnDKMdwZEdVpE8KhFvjuKW2-BeRJXl6LUt9QDRP6ub20rhp3Mk3sT0quz5PVhsTvX-mZWqiLmuzM9vPX-E/s1600/IMG_0711.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5591980718355951890" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5eHNt3KgcDym1IVGAVFV82IU66DF9CMJenmleh4fTZxUwgFbSMMK5j9YUOMnDKMdwZEdVpE8KhFvjuKW2-BeRJXl6LUt9QDRP6ub20rhp3Mk3sT0quz5PVhsTvX-mZWqiLmuzM9vPX-E/s400/IMG_0711.JPG" /></a> <br /><div>"Until you can see what we see and what God sees, other people will continue to dictate your perception of your beauty..."</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>A good friend said this to me. I didn't want to forget his words. I've been thinking a lot about beauty... how its defined, where it comes from, when it is lasting, and how to own it.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div>kalihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06755948726063673163noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284282520984230812.post-7028143871057086432011-04-01T22:54:00.000-07:002011-04-02T00:15:12.569-07:00a walk with Charlotte<div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">I have been thinking a lot about purpose lately. I naturally look for meaning in things, like it somehow helps me feel like my life and all its details really matter. </span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">I believe that I was created with purpose. </span></div><br /><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4ZXcN_SVZ8Ow_6GJEa1YdoQR-IcGBgf5s9qofnQ7VnJsY6TkHMaOgIwESEonUhhvXq0yRAANvp76VXE-XEiu4CafuLaDguVov-RsYefRd1D7PJjHFWfPPx_sL_THoJYdZ5Ox18-i_G7Q/s1600/IMG_0813.JPG"><span style="font-size:130%;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5590865019409579186" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4ZXcN_SVZ8Ow_6GJEa1YdoQR-IcGBgf5s9qofnQ7VnJsY6TkHMaOgIwESEonUhhvXq0yRAANvp76VXE-XEiu4CafuLaDguVov-RsYefRd1D7PJjHFWfPPx_sL_THoJYdZ5Ox18-i_G7Q/s400/IMG_0813.JPG" /></span></a><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span></p><br /><p align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">It is amazing, when you think about it- all the pieces that have to come together to shape a person. All those circumstances and encounters that were something beyond serendipitous. If you are bold, you see divinity at work. You aren't afraid to say so either. Once you find the space in which everything you can control meets everything beyond your control, you can't deny that there is something greater at work. </span></p><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjni-jG91WUu812IP0R0i_0io0df9n3QlOYjiOs1PGKINuxMtok2LIWwLnpK5YmnnxmxValyxW8Bmo2usRD6ONfl1n8oj7CZvFWCa0ZAiWpMMMxGcqmb-ztnEW4d3SNDn490zlSzcR4iZA/s1600/IMG_0811.JPG"><span style="font-size:130%;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5590865023411000850" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjni-jG91WUu812IP0R0i_0io0df9n3QlOYjiOs1PGKINuxMtok2LIWwLnpK5YmnnxmxValyxW8Bmo2usRD6ONfl1n8oj7CZvFWCa0ZAiWpMMMxGcqmb-ztnEW4d3SNDn490zlSzcR4iZA/s400/IMG_0811.JPG" /></span></a><span style="font-size:130%;"> Lord, may I never stop seeking the purpose you have for my life. And as you reveal to me my purpose, may I be steadfast in whatever direction that may be. Father, help me to love other people well. Help me to love myself well. Most importantly, help me to love You well. </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8Z8-MOqKbbSrXwMnyKyCno_U7TXADPNEJnHuv1rYn_vkDgz3xRBSTmFP3KIl5lvTp4T8gmUHLCJoMOEOP3-ayzFlsQP5o68hMiNtjQP2lZRgLG4hq3-x_pPacGJlB3eYW3RAl8IGji3A/s1600/IMG_0808.JPG"><span style="font-size:130%;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5590865017487629186" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8Z8-MOqKbbSrXwMnyKyCno_U7TXADPNEJnHuv1rYn_vkDgz3xRBSTmFP3KIl5lvTp4T8gmUHLCJoMOEOP3-ayzFlsQP5o68hMiNtjQP2lZRgLG4hq3-x_pPacGJlB3eYW3RAl8IGji3A/s400/IMG_0808.JPG" /></span></a><span style="font-size:130%;"> What is any flower compared to a dandelion picked just for you by your daughter? Held so carefully in her little bitty hands, a treasure that stays long after the flower fades. </span><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc1qIXF51vhVAk7ZL1KR8H_BRYejjKdXAjG6qjF_7E5dkUP8jwvN8NgYlNadFyq1vS7qIgk15o7NYnCmko2O-YnwsoAT9nfOlr6aJ24trpmv5ptKw5s6T0DYD1slSAq0YbU4LWZxR-bcc/s1600/IMG_0806.JPG"><span style="font-size:130%;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5590865011546395986" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc1qIXF51vhVAk7ZL1KR8H_BRYejjKdXAjG6qjF_7E5dkUP8jwvN8NgYlNadFyq1vS7qIgk15o7NYnCmko2O-YnwsoAT9nfOlr6aJ24trpmv5ptKw5s6T0DYD1slSAq0YbU4LWZxR-bcc/s400/IMG_0806.JPG" /></span></a></div><br /><div></div></div>kalihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06755948726063673163noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284282520984230812.post-64535118680015759352011-01-20T12:56:00.000-08:002011-01-20T14:03:27.394-08:00among the wildflowers<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNWmkhXC13PRaJ4UgV5mKZRL9qL6kBOihD82_-txC-ycJ0b5nJf442bRp1XWUwFI-isEMkr67X3rFI4iOkIoD8tUM-dsIP3sJY8z4qAk6ig-rOCFhWIny4pTvRaELUxKFErv7lYabIcK8/s1600/famphoto.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNWmkhXC13PRaJ4UgV5mKZRL9qL6kBOihD82_-txC-ycJ0b5nJf442bRp1XWUwFI-isEMkr67X3rFI4iOkIoD8tUM-dsIP3sJY8z4qAk6ig-rOCFhWIny4pTvRaELUxKFErv7lYabIcK8/s400/famphoto.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564389834947855250" /></a><br /><br /><div> </div><div>After week 1: - 4 pounds!! I am not following any plan exclusively... only trying to make good choices every day. I think I may step up the work outs. </div><div> </div><div>My mom has a theory, you've heard it before. What you put out into the universe comes back to you... the universe responds to you based on what you emit into the atmosphere...</div><div> </div><div>I think she is right.</div><div> </div><div>After a little over one week of making an effort to take better care of myself, it seemed like the universe was responding to my efforts. Someone compliments my hair. A random boy stops me in the parking lot to tell me how beautiful I am and insists that I give him my number. The girls say, "Mama, you're so pretty," as I get ready. A couple girlfriends tell me how great I look... that I look "hot"- I smile more and people smile more back at me. I have been asked out three times in the last week. I swear, they are coming out of the woodwork. Don't get me wrong, this isn't what I am after. Its more like a symptom of trying to put your best self out into the universe.</div><div> </div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Dare I say, I am slowly but surely getting my sparkle back?</div><div> </div><div><br /></div><div>Here is the deal, the irony of it all... when you start taking better care of yourself, you find that everything you need is intrinsic. Everything that makes me beautiful comes from within me. Everything I need to become my best, I already have living inside my spirit. I have a completeness that I don't think I have ever felt before. My relationship with God has evolved to a new and more lovely place I have never been. God is enough. I can think of hundreds of days I longed for some type of affirmation from people in my world. I <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">needed</span> it. I needed others to define me because I had no idea how to define myself. I had no starting and stopping point. I started with what she told me to be and stopped with what he said I was. And he said I was some horrible things. In my mind, I see God taking an eraser to it all. Erasing the lines, blowing off the eraser dust, and redrawing me perfectly. Perfectly imperfect. Me. Beautiful, lovely, me.</div><div> </div><div><br /></div><div>Some amazing things about this last week or so:</div><div>-I did Emily's hair and she broke out the red lipstick. Nobody looks better in red lipstick than she does.</div><div>-I danced like no one was watching. On more than one occasion. </div><div>-I started another semester of school.</div><div>-I made new friends.</div><div>-I snuggled with Brooklyn and Charlotte on the couch. </div><div>-I read Brooklyn's report card: she is a whole grade level ahead in math and reading.</div><div>-I sweat. It felt AMAZING. I was shedding bad memories. With every bead that dripped down my face, down my back, between my breasts... I was sweating off pain.</div><div>-I sat with my mom. We watched TV. She brought me cups of coffee. With the perfect amount of cream, exactly the way I like it.</div><div>-I got what was quite possibly the best email ever from my Vanessa. We talked on the phone way too late about everything and nothing, about my husband. About her husband. About the land of the unicorns... :) Oh, and she made a new mix!</div><div>-I ate pasta right out of the serving spoon.</div><div>-I got my nose pierced. Super cute. </div><div>-I found amazing liquid eyeliner for two dollars: wet'n'wild y'all. </div><div><br /></div><div>ohmygracious! I almost forgot to tell you!! I am in communications with this amazing photographer, <a href="http://www.mandylynne.com/index2.php?v=v1">mandylynne.com</a> - she is one of my favorites. The picture above is the last picture I have had taken with my girls... I'm six months pregnant with Charlie. So, this summer I am going to Springfield, MO... ROADTRIP!!! With V and my girlies, and I am getting real, professional pictures taken with my girls. Family Pictures. I might try to sneak a few in with Vanessa too. </div><div> </div><div><br /></div><div>Well folks, I am going to head to the Y. I think I will try a new class today...</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div>kalihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06755948726063673163noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284282520984230812.post-31616100402377292762011-01-08T20:06:00.000-08:002011-01-08T20:29:19.806-08:002011<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">It is 2011</span>. 20<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">11.</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 24px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I believe that this year will be one of the best years of my life. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px;">I am hoping that this blog will become more of a "lifework" space. Like homework but lifework. I am hoping that this will be a place to document the incredible year that 2011 will be. But most of all, I am hoping this is a place where I can be 1. Honest 2. Authentic 3. Connected. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px;">I want this year to bring change. I want to lose weight. I want to floss more. I want to have my first massage. I want to get rid of stuff. I want to learn more about my daughters. I want to become better acquainted with God. I want to buy dresses. I want to stop eating fast food. I want to be a better friend. I want to be a better daughter. I want to be a better mother. I want to learn more about who my girls are, and foster their individuality. I want to clean my house. I want to dance. I want to have my lovely friends over for dinner. I want to start a movement. I want to flirt with a man. I want to get a pedicure. I want to sweat. a lot. I want to laugh. a lot. I want to study my Bible. I want to finish another semester of classes. I want to dress up fancy. I want to travel some place. I want to wear bright red lipstick. I want to paint my fingers and toes so they match. I want to give things away. I want to get myself back. I want to discover the beauty that is within me. I want to create something with my hands. I want to make my bedroom a sanctuary, and take the tv out. I want to cook something by Mrs. Childs. I want to spend time with a horse. I want to play with my nieces and nephews. I want to pray over my girls every single day in 2011. I want to wash off my make up before bed. I want to feel more comfortable giving and getting hugs. I want to be something else besides agreeable. I want to go for walks more. I want to take more pictures, especially of the girls. I want to finish something. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px;">I want to LIVE.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px;">I want to make the most of my time here.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px;">2011 will be an amazing year. It really, really will.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px;"><br /></span></div>kalihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06755948726063673163noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284282520984230812.post-80972464476133578952010-12-05T16:04:00.000-08:002010-12-05T17:15:12.064-08:00fresh starts<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjma3agY-W1m4KBZ7LoIZoSfU9m6Kfs8mx8d9RNjKn1vFjbqFaF1lCKyDZRGFAcYoB4LaqyzCgmDHMXxTXDKgpWiunvUPufBwC9EEpnXeYMtcT95W7DvKSWC2gPuDpwiSPAGT1NnAOxPak/s1600/chardee2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjma3agY-W1m4KBZ7LoIZoSfU9m6Kfs8mx8d9RNjKn1vFjbqFaF1lCKyDZRGFAcYoB4LaqyzCgmDHMXxTXDKgpWiunvUPufBwC9EEpnXeYMtcT95W7DvKSWC2gPuDpwiSPAGT1NnAOxPak/s400/chardee2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5547357843495598946" /></a><br /><br />So, those of you who know me personally, and those of you have been following me even since the old blog... well, you know I have been through a lot in the last several years. I'd debrief you, but honestly you don't want to hear about it. Odds are, you lived through it with me if you are reading this blog... :o)<div> </div><div>I say it every year, but I really truly honestly believe that 2011 is going to be AMAZING!!! BETTER THAN AMAZING!!!! It is going to be some word our language doesn't have that is better than any super hyperpositive descriptive word in the english language. 2011 is going to rock our socks off. Wait. and. see....</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDPsc7KidbleBp76PoLqrGG2EKotbKUjMMX1V-DvqxCpRqs94y4HLP135R0Hz7cp76lWvernRR-RFbj2WsxzVKJiTPBVFhDCuhgUsg4ppGQASIDzlucHRHZ65LVY5SmzRklBj8IMPItaA/s400/chardee.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5547357408098380322" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238);"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238);"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238);"><br /></span></div><div> </div><div> </div>I am 26 now. Y'all probably knew that. Birthdays are kinda weird now. Anything that happens now, I can never in my life say it happened in my early twenties. I am no longer in my early twenties. I am growing more aware of the fact that there won't always be time to do things... time doesn't wait on me. My mom would scoff at my silliness. To her, I am so young. I get it. But I am entering into a new category of some sort, for sure. <div><br /></div><div>I am waaaaay single. Like, not even a little bit dating. I miss dates. I miss kissing. But I LOVE everything I am learning about myself. I really do love this season. I am having fun. And, I think I am on the cusp of some incredible personal growth and change that will insure my arrival. I will say, "I have arrived."</div><div><br /></div><div>Upcoming change: I think I have found a new place to live! It is nearly too good to be true, so I am keeping my fingers crossed. I go for the official tour tomorrow. I will be sure and take my phone to snap some pictures of the inside- I will try and share on here asap. I have been praying for a new home, one that I can afford. One that is in a good area. One that the girls and I can call home. </div><div><br /></div><div>I have INCREDIBLE friends. Like, the kind of girlfriends you wish for your whole life. One of them is my mom. Sometimes when I stop to consider the beautiful women that have come alongside me and carried me through, I want to fall to my knees and praise God. Thank you isn't enough... I can't thank God enough for the gift of the women He has put in my life. That He chose my mom for me. That He chose a softball diamond for Emily and I to unite forces as the girls on the team, and we've loved each other ever since. That Emily would set me up on a blind friend date with Vanessa, because she had a feeling that we should meet... and on that day, at the donut whole, I met my sister for the first time. My God appointed, spiritual sister. On that day, part of me was awakened. Like two little girls running through a field in cotton dresses, sun shining brightly, laughing and giggling til we had to stop to breathe... and we collapse and lay and look at the clouds... and look at each other. No words. Smiles. And she knows, and I know, everything is going to be alright. She looks at me and I feel loved- we say I love you with our eyes...that is how it feels... I wish I could describe it better. I'm feeling so loved!</div><div><br /></div><div>My girls... oh, my girls. They are the most beautiful things I have ever seen. Everything about them is lovely, and God breathed. I feel so honored to raise them up, to teach them about God, to be the one that loves them most and best. Again, makes me want to hit my knees and praise God. We have made it to the other side, we three. We are free.</div><div><br /></div><div>I feel like celebrating!!! I feel like there are so many things to celebrate!!! Maybe, at the very least, a housewarming party?</div><div><br /></div><div>The birth of a Savior?</div><div><br /></div><div>Christmas!!!!</div><div><br /></div><div>Okay, I'll be back soon with updates. </div><div><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>kalihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06755948726063673163noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284282520984230812.post-42011943013955342792010-11-23T16:30:00.000-08:002010-11-23T16:45:36.213-08:00...becoming...It has been a while. Where does the time go?<div><br /></div><div>Recently I heard on NPR (national public radio) about a study that some scientists did in Russia. (At least I think it was Russia?) They took individuals out in a huge open field, blind folded them, and asked them to walk in a straight line. It isn't possible. Every single time, the walker turned and started to walk in a circle. The hypothesized that it could be left/right handedness, but disproved it because lefties were turning right and vice versa. They thought it was correlated with brain hemispheres, but they disproved that as well. They weren't able to prove why, but they did prove that it happens every time without fail. I was fascinated with this experiment. My "attach meaning to everything" type brain considered this a spiritual metaphor. </div><div><br /></div><div>They proved that humans are only capable of walking in a straight line when they are able to fix their eyes on someone or something in the distance. If they can't fix their eyes on anything, they walk in circles.</div><div><br /></div><div>I have been trying to keep my eyes fixed, but more often than not I feel as though I am walking in circles. Big, dramatic, exhausting circles.</div><div><br /></div><div>So, along these same lines- here is my new plan. First, I must fully identify what it is exactly I dream of. What kind of woman do I want to be? What dreams do I have for my life? Go ahead and gasp, but I think God gives us the right to dream. I think we are supposed to. I think we get to collaborate on these things with God. Step 1: Identification, aka finding the place to fix your eyes spiritually and also figuratively.</div><div><br /></div><div>Step 2: Start making choices. Talk to God about the big ones, and the small ones if you wish. But move. You can't stand still. You have to make choices. Before fully making a decision, ask yourself, "Will these move me toward or away from what I'm after?"</div><div><br /></div><div>When you know the answer, move toward your dreams. Simple. Move in the direction of your dreams. Do this every day, and eventually you will see them come to pass.</div><div><br /></div><div>I feel as though I am either standing still, or going in circles. But for some strange reason I feel empowered to start moving... straight toward the life God has had in store for me all along, and straight into His loving presence.</div><div><br /></div><div>I must go for now, I am going to Yoga. Because choosing to go to yoga moves me one step in the direction of my weight loss goals. :o)</div><div><br /></div><div>Love to you all, and we'll catch up soon.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>kalihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06755948726063673163noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284282520984230812.post-90777141712295393952010-09-06T19:01:00.000-07:002010-09-06T19:58:13.589-07:00heat and freezing<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgjv_0KJX2WF8JubqkCn5sQZNffH0NinYnD-vGhDJkgyRQqRSaPKzykI2RSh9tk79zhI2z8pEryFgfozz0CEKHZbDIwiR3ZULbbRtD7EoCol5DA0BaczUJsHCpNF61D_zclcO67jZCY0M/s1600/vintage-sixties-hippie-engagement-session-lennon14.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgjv_0KJX2WF8JubqkCn5sQZNffH0NinYnD-vGhDJkgyRQqRSaPKzykI2RSh9tk79zhI2z8pEryFgfozz0CEKHZbDIwiR3ZULbbRtD7EoCol5DA0BaczUJsHCpNF61D_zclcO67jZCY0M/s400/vintage-sixties-hippie-engagement-session-lennon14.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513998943774796434" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">(photo from <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">flickr</span>)</div><div><br /></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">When someone reveals the nature of their character, believe them.</span><div> </div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">This is the thought that keeps popping in and out of brain lately. I know there is some famous quote along these same lines, but the point is that one should play close attention to actions. Do they match beliefs? When someone, maybe in their worst moment, or angriest moment, or most desperate moment, shows you a side you don't want to believe is there, well- believe it. I think, especially women, we tend to minimize behaviors. We tend to dismiss them and sweep them under the rug. Especially if we can find some outlying circumstance to attribute the behavior to. He was drunk... she was really angry... he was under so much stress... you know how it goes.</span></div><div> </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">I know it seems like very basic stuff, but I am really now learning that we teach people how to treat us. Personally, I am terrible with boundaries AND I am very much a people </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">pleaser</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">. The two together makes me a prime door mat material. It is more comfortable for me to accept mistreatment than it is for me to stand up for myself or create conflict. I don't really want to continue to be this way. So what if I piss someone off? My self-respect is on the line. Who do I love more? Myself or that person? Who's happiness is more essential to the well-being of my daughters? That persons or mine? I challenge women like me to protect themselves. To stop fearing conflict, or the thought of being "displeasing" - honor yourself. Love yourself. Respect yourself. If you don't, nobody else will.</span></div><div> </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Lately it seems like I have been encountering women married for twenty plus years who are newly divorced. I feel a significance when they share their story, and I know it is supposed to mean something to me. Maybe I am supposed to be grateful that I didn't spend thirty two years in an unhappy marriage, raising kids, emptying the nest, and then get a divorce? Maybe I am supposed to recognize that even those that follow the typical lines I sometimes feel guilty for coloring outside of, well, they don't have it any better. They aren't happier. We are all susceptible to failed relationships.</span></div><div> </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">I miss feeling connected, and feeling like I have a sense of community. Lately I have been feeling disconnected from even my best friends. I go to church but don't feel the love. Its a great collection of strangers. Last night I was crying to my mom on the phone, mostly feeling lonely. About ten minutes after our conversation ended, Brooklyn comes walking into the living room, and she crawls up on the couch with me. We laid there, and talked. I didn't feel lonely anymore. Her chatter slowly became quiet, and I could hear her little girl snores. She fell asleep in the nook of my arm. I decided to lay there and savor everything about it. I wanted to memorize the way it feels to hold my six year old baby sleeping. A bit later, Charlotte comes toddling up to the couch, carrying her favorite soft blanket. I pull her up on the couch with us. I held my two sleepy baby girls and looked at the ceiling, and smelled their freshly washed curls, I listened to their sleepy breathing. I noticed I was anything but lonely. I thanked God. And I fell sleep.</span></div><div> </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">In an earlier post I shared a video of a poem that I love. The last line is "There is heat, and freezing be a testament"- we have to know what its like to freeze to truly appreciate the heat. Warmth exists. I believe that. I typically don't struggle with loneliness or being single. In fact, I quite prefer it. But once in awhile, loneliness creeps up and pesters me. I am thinking, though, its a blessing. Yep. Loneliness is a blessing. It is the freezing that makes heat so beautiful. And, if you are as lucky as I am, you have little people who can't get close enough to you. They fit in your arms like puzzle pieces. They get their heat from you. There is no such thing as freezing for little girls who always have a mommy to hold them. Is there anything more beautiful than that? Does anything else really matter? </span></div><div> </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Somewhere out in the world, there is a nook that I fit perfectly in. I am his puzzle piece, and he is mine. Maybe he longs for me too. Maybe not. Maybe he knows the freezing all too well. Maybe he gathers his warmth from talks with God, and his own little people, like I do. </span></div><div> </div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">If you have community, connectedness, companionship, take a moment to praise God. Be thankful for the beautiful relationships in your life. If you are otherwise a little cold, or maybe freezing, I will share my blanket until warmth finds us again.</span></div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div>kalihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06755948726063673163noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284282520984230812.post-81361642855709789842010-08-16T20:56:00.000-07:002010-08-16T21:25:19.815-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbvLk7mmAVEok9EiKRnm44TOdl_TUpeoNJKr-CjH-yLsZRqkOa8EOoctaEv584kSHGI2N5vaWsGyUVDL3XfpjhpLrqsqRh1-pvcx3dLHcpESj1ulS39kNf524B7_gWJVHJhjzG7EQbVAg/s1600/41128_1579653576322_1385134408_1567942_7869006_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbvLk7mmAVEok9EiKRnm44TOdl_TUpeoNJKr-CjH-yLsZRqkOa8EOoctaEv584kSHGI2N5vaWsGyUVDL3XfpjhpLrqsqRh1-pvcx3dLHcpESj1ulS39kNf524B7_gWJVHJhjzG7EQbVAg/s400/41128_1579653576322_1385134408_1567942_7869006_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506222868469318594" /></a>Today was Brooklyn's first day back to school. I snapped a picture with my phone real quick this morning as we headed out the door. This is grandma's house. (Well, one of them.)<div><br /></div><div>We went to the first day of school ceremony. The kindergarten kiddos look so little! I don't remember Brooklyn looking so tiny. I wished her a great first day, and started walking down the sidewalk to our car with my Charlie monster. Another mom, who works at the school asked, "Is this Brooklyn's sister? She has gotten so big! She was such a baby last year and now she looks like a big girl... how old is she?"</div><div><br /></div><div>"She's two. And a half. We are half way through..."</div><div>(chuckles) She said three was actually pretty bad for her. To which I reply, "Oh no! Don't say that."</div><div>"I was pretty spoiled with Brooklyn. She was the best toddler,"</div><div>Then the mom said, "She is a great kid all the way around. She is always happy, always has a smile on her face, she has the best personality..."</div><div>I can't remember if I thanked her for complimenting my girlie so. I was too busy smiling and feeling all kinds of proud.</div><div><br /></div><div>I have heard it said that our children are not our own. We are merely facilitators. For such a short time, they are with us. We are supposed to teach them as best we can. All parents with grown children assure me that I will mess up. My kids will hate me at some point. I will fall short and I will wound them. There will come a day, when my girls wake up and realize that mom is human. She isn't any super woman. She makes huge mistakes. She gets lost and confused and really doesn't have all the answers.</div><div><br /></div><div>Tonight, before bed, I hugged Brooklyn extra long. I told her I love her so so so much. And that I am so so so proud of her. I really am. She is the most beautiful soul I have ever met, and I am so excited that for the rest of my life, I get to know her and love her. I feel the same way about my Charlotte. She isn't nearly as sweet, but she makes up for it in strength of will. Charlotte will be her own woman. The <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">sassafrass</span> is so smart, so strong willed, and so funny! It amazes me, the intentionality with which they were created. They compliment each other so well, the way best friends should. </div><div><br /></div><div>I wish I could give them the world, everything they ever want. I wish that when Brooklyn asks about the ocean I could take her there tomorrow. I wish I had a home in the country, and a horse for them to ride. I wish I could buy them the latest toy, or take them to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">disney</span> world. Most of all, I wish I could give them the ideal family that we all seem to long for. I wish there were no every other weekend with dad visits. I wish they could see inside my heart, to understand fully how much I love them and why I have made the choices I have.</div><div><br /></div><div>When my human-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">ness</span> becomes all too much, when my mistakes make them angry, when they hurt because so and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">so's</span> mom and dad are still together... I hope they know they have a perfect God, who created them perfectly, who knows their hearts, and is always there to love them through anything. </div><div><br /></div><div>This facilitating stuff is hard work. Suddenly my heart aches for Mary...</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>kalihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06755948726063673163noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284282520984230812.post-12906063577898263132010-08-15T20:09:00.000-07:002010-08-15T20:16:11.279-07:00a new direction for this here blog<object width="640" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/k7X7sZzSXYs?fs=1&hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/k7X7sZzSXYs?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Times;"><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Life is interesting, isn't it? I mean, so many times what we plan for, what we imagine, what we dream of, what we believe we can count on... it never happens. Maybe fairy tales ruin us. Maybe expectations of others leave us no choice but to fall short. Maybe we make our own choices, and after so many choices, we look ourselves in the mirror and wonder how in the world we arrived here. What went wrong? The retrospection is dangerous, and quite useless. As is the guilt, the shame, the anger we turn inward.</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">When I was a teenager, barely sixteen, I moved out of my home. That was, at the time, the healthiest choice I could have made for myself. By eighteen, my stellar grades hardly meant a thing, because I was pregnant. I was pregnant and alone. I remember one night I slept with my Bible, I was so afraid. Boys don't make very good men, and it was only a short matter of time before I found myself with a beautiful baby girl, a heap of pain from infidelity, and single.</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Every woman, at some point, should experience what it is like to walk in the front door after the end of a long day, with no one but herself to keep her company. It is both empowering and humbling at the same time.</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Along comes this perfect stranger. He spent a summer making friends with Brooklyn before he ever even spoke to me. I think he knew the way to my heart was through my Brooklyn. It was absolute perfection, well, until one night he grabbed me by the ponytail and the arm, pulled me out of my car and through me down in the middle of the street. Apparently I didn't get to leave, if he didn't want me to. I remember standing up, adrenaline coursing through my veins, looking down at my hands at the gravel that had imprinted in my skin. I had to tell myself that this was really happening. The man I was hoping to spend the rest of my life with, the man I trusted to love my little girl, the man that I loved completely, was an abuser.</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I encourage you, before you make assumptions, to learn about the nature of abusers and the women who find themselves with them. On average, a woman in an abusive relationship attempts to leave her abuser seven times before she gets out for good. I lived it, for nearly five years. I must have tried to leave dozens of times, only to find myself right back in his grip. I took a class on domestic violence. I read every book I could find on the matter. I had an amazing support system of women who were willing to do anything to get me away from him. I can't tell you why it took me so long to leave. </span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">So, I found myself single, now with another baby girl, and a daughter in love with a man that went about destroying her mother. As he had women before me, and I am so blessed to call a few of them friends. I have definitely had a few lingering looks in the mirror, wondering how in the world I arrived here.</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Dare I say, this is the best time of my life. I have been on my own for quite some time now, and I love being a single mother. It is so hard, don't get me wrong. But I am so much happier than I ever could have imagined. I love waking up to my girls. I love tucking them in and saying prayers at bedtime. I love that they get to see me strong, independent, and growing more lovely with each passing day. They get to witness an amazing transformation in their mother... a mom who loves and respects herself. I can't help but believe, that some of it will be imparted on them. I have yet to meet a man good enough for them... good enough to model what a man should be, and how a man should love a woman. </span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I have been praying for my husband since I was five years old. I remember my very specific prayers, as a child, for a good man, for a husband who is a great dad. I also prayed that I would only be married once. I know to have two children, with two different guys, doesn't really fit in any box society is comfortable with. But I smile every time it comes up. Because I know, God heard the prayers of my five-year-old heart. And that is precisely why I have been engaged twice, but never married. </span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I have no real interest in dating. Although, I can't wait to hold hands. I can't wait to admire his laugh, his messy hair, the way he sings in the car. I can't wait to hug him so I can try to memorize the way he smells, the way my cheek rests on his chest... "In time, my daughter."</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Statistically, I should never be where I am right now. Statistically, I should be neck deep in a horribly abusive relationship, raising two daughters that would no doubt follow in my footsteps. And in all actuality, statistically, I should be dead. I belong to God. He saved me. He saves me over and over, there are no limitations to His Mercy, Grace, Forgiveness, and Love. I get to experience a freedom, that one can only truly appreciate after living in years of bondage and brokenness, and abuse. Sweet sweet freedom. </span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I am as free as a bird.</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "><br /></p></span>kalihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06755948726063673163noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284282520984230812.post-24334041848472948092010-06-09T21:49:00.000-07:002010-06-10T15:25:45.212-07:00Rest Awhile<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCC9Hs0sHkaZ4D-x55ZjauoC_ejj9rfX1701UJVLCBBZ71Av3OSpczcLW4TBD-Aq0-lgt3Dzu6RJAoE5QhM-k8R1ph5-6jBbRR8KC7NZ5FDdxxhBM_iEaho712a4u9S_h7mPsNzm20N6w/s1600/ry=400-1.jpeg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 291px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCC9Hs0sHkaZ4D-x55ZjauoC_ejj9rfX1701UJVLCBBZ71Av3OSpczcLW4TBD-Aq0-lgt3Dzu6RJAoE5QhM-k8R1ph5-6jBbRR8KC7NZ5FDdxxhBM_iEaho712a4u9S_h7mPsNzm20N6w/s400/ry=400-1.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481002847255867826" /></a>The settee above was my first vintage furniture piece. My mom bought it for me, and then paid to have it recovered. I love the original finish of the wood, the intricacies of the carvings, and I like to wonder about where it has been. I know it is over 100 years old, and that is a lot of life to live!<div><br /></div><div>This weekend will be full of home projects and cleaning. My baby bird is sick with a viral infection in her throat. And, I really need a low key weekend as it is...</div><div><br /></div><div>Hopefully I can accomplish a lot, and pick just the right spot for this treasure. I would like to put it in the girls rooms, but I am not quite that brave. I mean, it is white. And Charlotte is notorious for coloring on anything and everything. </div><div><br /></div><div>I hope you all have a lovely weekend!</div>kalihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06755948726063673163noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284282520984230812.post-79563890728946775362010-06-05T01:03:00.000-07:002010-06-05T01:28:58.703-07:00forgiveness- front and centerI've caught myself feeling pretty happy, as of late. Maybe happy isn't the right word... maybe content would be more appropriate. I'm alright. And that is a good feeling. <div><br /></div><div>There has been a huge shift in my walk. Over the last six years plus, my walk has been very healing focused... survival mode, just learning how to handle today and wake up tomorrow ready to handle that day. I realized I had many days in a row, when I was just okay. I was better than surviving. And then God started in with the whole forgiveness bit. More specifically, self forgiveness.</div><div><br /></div><div>Now, I am a very insightful, self-aware individual. I feel like I see myself realistically, and if not, too harshly. But when it comes to self-forgiveness, it is like a big blind spot in my self-actualization. As much as I fight this, God keeps putting it front and center. He has made it clear, that this is a crucial part of moving forward, of becoming who He has created me to be. If I avoid this most important step, I will be stuck in okay.</div><div><br /></div><div>I have always admired women who seem to really know themselves, and really LOVE themselves. I just wished I could encounter such peace with myself, all that I have been, currently am or ever will be. I am surprised at the compassion I feel toward others but not toward myself. But that whole self-love thing, I think it starts with self-forgiveness.</div><div><br /></div><div>If my walk were on literal stepping stones, I just jumped to a new one. And on the previous one, I couldn't see too far ahead, couldn't see where I was going. But on this one, I can see it! I feel as though I finally see that place I have been striving for. The goal is within sight, no longer this far off place that I only dreamt of. I feel so willing to do whatever it takes to get there...</div><div><br /></div><div>I must say, I couldn't have arrived here without several women, and my two little soul mates. They carried me. They upheld me. They forced me to refuse to give up. They made me believe that God is a tender and compassionate daddy. They made me laugh, and cried for me. They changed my life forever, and I wish there were words that could express just what they mean to me. Ma, V, Em- I love you so much. Thank you. </div><div><br /></div><div>God, thank you so much. I am SO blessed. I can't praise You enough. </div>kalihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06755948726063673163noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284282520984230812.post-67864639057799006802010-05-25T21:38:00.000-07:002010-05-25T22:31:47.982-07:00on the beginning of wholeness<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt5DRiqnNyQIPlueqlCTR1AvlMpWQZZENkZsjnX2CPTQXnnyExEh_OnO_8AJeJCd42GaO_W_fvc9TJTVOuO2y4U791neJsfn536K5FSbgwkLhItXp80HmafH1G9vF68eYMEtJSmP-hvoc/s1600/bradyquarlesart.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475441189299935810" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 251px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt5DRiqnNyQIPlueqlCTR1AvlMpWQZZENkZsjnX2CPTQXnnyExEh_OnO_8AJeJCd42GaO_W_fvc9TJTVOuO2y4U791neJsfn536K5FSbgwkLhItXp80HmafH1G9vF68eYMEtJSmP-hvoc/s400/bradyquarlesart.jpg" border="0" /></a> {art by Brady <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Quarles</span> Art}</div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><br />I love the movie <em>Hope Floats</em>. It does have all the makings for a movie I would love- quirky grandma, beautiful old home, Sandra Bullock, country boy, a camera, southern small town, mother-daughter love, and then that other kind of love...<br /><br />I'd tell you about the movie, but I am hoping that you have already seen it or will sometime soon. But I love this quote from the end of the movie:<br /><br /><div align="justify"><strong>"My dad says that childhood is the happiest time of my life. But, I think he's wrong. I think my mom's right. She says that childhood is what you spend the rest of your life trying to overcome. That's what momma always says. She says that beginnings are scary, endings are usually sad, but it's the middle that counts the most. Try to remember that when you find yourself at a new beginning. Just give hope a chance to float up. And it will, too... "</strong></div><br /><div align="justify"><strong></strong></div><div align="left">I feel as though I have been eating on the same piece of humble pie for quite some time. However well intentioned I may be, I seem to be making so many mistakes. But one thing is for sure, I have found myself at a new beginning. Beginnings <em>are </em>scary. </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">I take comfort in the fact that I never have to live the same day twice, and I always have the power to change. I am ready for God to make strength from the fear. I have this mental image of just laying down at Jesus' feet... washing them... drying them with my hair. Nobody is around. It is just He and I. And when I am done He lets me rest for awhile... just fall asleep in His arms like a child. I am longing for intimacy with God. I am longing to truly love myself and see myself as He sees me. I want to walk through life boldly, confident because of the One who has walked before me. He has made the way. I just have to listen.</div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">It is a hard thing for a broken girl to learn to feel whole. I have learned, that there is <strong>nothing</strong> on this earth that will accomplish that.... not love, not accomplishments, not sex, not drinking or addictions, not children, not money, not a book, not a best friend or parent, not being beautiful or having power, nothing on this earth can make a person feel whole, fulfilled, complete. I wish I could say what I know the world wants to hear. But the truth is, it can only be found in God. I know this, and yet I go about aimlessly, indulging in worldly things, trying to escape what is and fill what isn't. Empty pursuits. Like I said, same big piece of humble pie.</div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">I am at the beginning, and on my face. I am done brawling with reality. I am done with the empty pursuits. Lord, I want to want you more than anything else in my life. This is my <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">heart song</span>. Tonight, I just want to lay down, my head in your lap, and rest. </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div></div>kalihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06755948726063673163noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284282520984230812.post-15070942400094522522010-05-19T08:56:00.000-07:002010-05-19T09:10:04.942-07:00Here I am!Here I am!!!!!<div>I wanted to share with you my very first home grown peony baby. Isn't she lovely? I am rather proud...<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/40595953@N04/4621945720/" title="first peony by eleven birdies, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3589/4621945720_3280fdae81_b.jpg" width="683" height="1024" alt="first peony" /></a><br /><br />I had been wanting this closet system for a while. For some strange reason there was no closet bar in Brooklyn's room. Putting the girls in the same bedroom meant I had to get this. I finally had enough money and went to Lowes- they were on clearance! I had to put it together and install it all by myself. I had it all organized pretty but the girls messed up my photo styling. Anyway, you get the idea...</div><div><br /></div><div>Now if I could just afford some closet doors. :o)<br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/40595953@N04/4621337569/" title="all by myself by eleven birdies, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4046/4621337569_0e840ff7e2_b.jpg" width="683" height="1024" alt="all by myself" /></a><br /><br />My mom and I just got back from NYC last Sunday. It was a great trip! I love taking trips with her. She and I have the best time together. This is all the goodness that came home with me:</div><div><br /></div><div>Magnolia Bakery cookbook</div><div>millinery from tinsel trading</div><div>christian dior lipstick from sephora</div><div>victorian lace and old purse from hells kitchen flea market (you wouldn't believe what I paid!)</div><div>princess fabric from purl soho, for a project for the girls</div><div>Don't get too excited about the Tiffany bag. It is a pen. It was given to my mom (she was there for business) and she gave it to me. Someday I will buy myself something I can wear...</div><div><br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/40595953@N04/4621941376/" title="New York City Goodies by eleven birdies, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4063/4621941376_f44b183f4f_b.jpg" width="1024" height="683" alt="New York City Goodies" /></a><br /></div><br /><br />I have a mad Charlie to tend to. I will be back soon. I am trying to be a better blogger!<div><br /></div><div>Until next time...<br /><br /></div>kalihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06755948726063673163noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284282520984230812.post-3212848003969982682010-05-11T20:57:00.000-07:002010-05-11T21:10:00.163-07:00daydreaming...<div style="text-align: center;">I am listening to classical music on pandora and daydreaming...<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">:: green pastures ::</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">:: sweet horses ::</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">:: wildflowers ::</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">:: vintage dresses ::</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">:: laughter over a home cooked meal ::</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">:: roses, hydrangeas, peonies, camellias ::</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">:: finished projects ::</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">:: upcoming road trip with V ::</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">:: learning all kinds of new things ::</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">:: my first visit to ikea ::</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">:: being a really good blogger ::</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Thanks for being patient with me.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><br /></div>kalihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06755948726063673163noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284282520984230812.post-15796996432027672922010-04-27T11:51:00.000-07:002010-04-27T11:56:15.899-07:00Farm Chicks Giveaway!!!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi8iYIFVgtmRaSKcS7C-ijnF8TO7_IN9XJPckIfAvWMGoMccyoLyFeKq2HxkHR481JoDmuyvgd1DVooBHjdY21oY9y3HGNLjNUvnklLgLx95d3t0nkhokPoYxQurrTXI2hqdty4Q3u-QI/s1600/giveaway!.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 283px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi8iYIFVgtmRaSKcS7C-ijnF8TO7_IN9XJPckIfAvWMGoMccyoLyFeKq2HxkHR481JoDmuyvgd1DVooBHjdY21oY9y3HGNLjNUvnklLgLx95d3t0nkhokPoYxQurrTXI2hqdty4Q3u-QI/s400/giveaway!.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464892059070905394" /></a><a href="http://thefarmchicks.typepad.com/farmchicks/2010/04/farm-chicks-show-giveaway-1.html">I have wanted to go to this show for a long time! My mom and I nearly went a year ago. Now, the farmchick herself is hosting this giveaway! I never win anything, but no hurt in trying, right?</a><div><a href="http://thefarmchicks.typepad.com/farmchicks/2010/04/farm-chicks-show-giveaway-1.html"><br /></a></div><div><a href="http://thefarmchicks.typepad.com/farmchicks/2010/04/farm-chicks-show-giveaway-1.html">It would be a dream come true...</a></div><div><a href="http://thefarmchicks.typepad.com/farmchicks/2010/04/farm-chicks-show-giveaway-1.html"><br /></a></div><div><br /></div>kalihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06755948726063673163noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284282520984230812.post-28580630534273331452010-04-18T20:35:00.000-07:002010-04-18T21:12:12.792-07:00plus or minus<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjftaRZ8eNY2nXP-tExwcS8ypr6IqopMDe0IbOYlYSDeb2TSRGg5-Lsx4jJ7zwL1fzfJQh65-gDHBqS7Euo4VULB9khfkZ4ZYM5iVMx1xMtEi8ih85ExAz3xUaez3rBRu5WIH5WX6yrj4c/s1600/audrey.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 332px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjftaRZ8eNY2nXP-tExwcS8ypr6IqopMDe0IbOYlYSDeb2TSRGg5-Lsx4jJ7zwL1fzfJQh65-gDHBqS7Euo4VULB9khfkZ4ZYM5iVMx1xMtEi8ih85ExAz3xUaez3rBRu5WIH5WX6yrj4c/s400/audrey.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461687340697090210" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: 16px; "><span style="padding-top: 0em; padding-right: 0em; padding-bottom: 0em; padding-left: 0em; margin-top: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-bottom: 0em; margin-left: 0em; "><span style="font-style: italic; padding-top: 0em; padding-right: 0em; padding-bottom: 0em; padding-left: 0em; margin-top: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-bottom: 0em; margin-left: 0em; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">"I believe in pink. I believe that laughing is the best calorie</span></span><span style="font-style: italic; padding-top: 0em; padding-right: 0em; padding-bottom: 0em; padding-left: 0em; margin-top: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-bottom: 0em; margin-left: 0em; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"> burner. I believe in kissing, kissing a lot. I believe in being strong</span></span><span style="font-style: italic; padding-top: 0em; padding-right: 0em; padding-bottom: 0em; padding-left: 0em; margin-top: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-bottom: 0em; margin-left: 0em; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"> when everything seems to be going wrong. I believe that happy girls</span></span><span style="font-style: italic; padding-top: 0em; padding-right: 0em; padding-bottom: 0em; padding-left: 0em; margin-top: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-bottom: 0em; margin-left: 0em; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"> are the prettiest girls. I believe that tomorrow is another day, and I </span></span><span style="font-style: italic; padding-top: 0em; padding-right: 0em; padding-bottom: 0em; padding-left: 0em; margin-top: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-bottom: 0em; margin-left: 0em; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">believe in miracles."</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"> </span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 24px; line-height: 16px;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">-- Audrey Hepburn</span></span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 24px; line-height: 16px;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: 24px; line-height: 16px;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I found this on a friend of a friend's blog. I love Audrey. And I really love this quote.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: 16px;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: 16px;">I've been thinking a lot lately about what it means to be a woman. Not just a woman, but a woman who loves the Lord. As soon as I type those words a little part of me cringes because I know that some people will be immediately turned off. But that's what I am after. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: 16px;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: 16px;">I have been journaling quite a lot lately, and I feel like I am on the verge of something big. God has been doing some subtracting from my life. He can do that, you know? He can decide he doesn't like this or that and before you know it, your life looks different. He adds too. He adds people, good good good hearted people. He adds opportunities. He adds a little adventure. He adds blessings that seem too good to be true. I have to admit, when I first started sincerely praying to live according to God's will for my life, I was all talk. I said it because I wanted to feel like I was living right. I wanted to feel like I was a good daughter. But when living on my own accord got so bad, so painful, that I became truly desperate to live out God's will- I prayed for it and meant it. I <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">begged</span> for it.I could no longer stand my own will. And folks, the changes that came with that HURT. The refinement that needed to take place was excruciating for my soul. It is still a little tender to the touch. But for the first time in my whole life, I AM FREE.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: 16px;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: 16px;">Isn't that crazy? That we come to know FREEDOM by submitting our lives to God? I think I must have heard that 1000 times. I had to live it to truly know what it felt like. The walk to the ledge is a bit scary. Looking over the ledge is gut-wrenchingly terrifying. The step off the ledge makes your heart stop beating and your organs drop. The falling is half frightening and half exciting. You become fearful of the landing... and then... you are caught in His arms. The landing is soft and warm and safe and beautiful. And you feel silly for being so afraid in the first place. That is what trusting God feels like for me.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: 16px;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: 16px;">I have been so wounded by human beings that I struggle to trust the Creator of the universe and every creature in it! How non-sensical is that? But God gets me. He knows where I am coming from. And He knows way deep down, I love Him. I want to trust Him. I am trying with every ounce of capacity my little human heart has. I have prayed a sincere prayer of wanting God's will for my life, and I feel free- and He has given me a gift.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: 16px;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-style: italic; line-height: 16px;">Before we can move forward, now is the time for you to truly extend yourself some grace. Come to see yourself as I see you. Learn to love yourself as I love you. Listen to the cries of your heart and understand where they come from. Nurse your wounds, child. Pause long enough for them to heal over. Be fearless about learning about your own nature, your faults, your strengths, your passions, your dreams. Be fierce about loving me. In exchange for your desire and willingness to want me more than anything in your life, I extend you the time and grace to come to heal, know, and love yourself deeply and completely. Let me show you how beautifully and wonderfully made you are...</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-style: italic; line-height: 16px;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: 16px;">Audrey seems to really know what she likes and what she believes in. She too, was no stranger to adversity. She loved laughing and kissing and so do I! Tomorrow is another day! Miracles are all around us! Audrey, you were on to something...</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: 16px;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: 16px;">Life is so rich. It is so good and so full. God adds and takes away and sometimes it stinks and sometimes it takes awhile but you will find freedom and peace. I have a long way to go. A really really long long way to go. But I believe in miracles.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: 16px;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; line-height: 16px;"><br /></span></div>kalihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06755948726063673163noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284282520984230812.post-47664837354263103872010-04-08T14:39:00.000-07:002010-04-08T15:14:10.908-07:00my cup runneth overSo I have some exciting news to share! I got the job!!!! I really am so excited about this opportunity to work with kids, and I really believe it is such a great fit for me. Not to mention, this will be the kind of job that suits my strengths and where I believe I can make a difference. What could be better than helping kids? <div><br /></div><div>My pear trees are blooming. I think spring is such a magical time of year. I love new beginnings, new life. When the trees get their green leaves and the flowers start blooming I feel like all is right with the world. This spring is a very special spring for me, I believe it is marked as one of my tried and true new beginnings. I believe this spring is the first spring of my brand new life. It is a very special thing, to remember how to love yourself. Let's just say, right now it feels as though there are unlimited possibilities for my life. </div><div><br /></div><div>Women are amazing. They truly are! I feel like the women in my life have changed my life forever. They gave me courage when mine ran out. They prayed with me and cried with me and laughed with me and celebrated with me. I am nearly in tears over the love I feel for them. And tonight, I am going to meet more amazing women. Tonight I am joining a support group of women who have survived abuse. My hope and prayer is that I can be as loving and supportive of them as the women in my life have been for me. </div><div><br /></div><div>Daughters can inspire you to do anything! (Sons too, I'm sure. I just don't have any of those.) Really, my girls make me feel like I can do anything and everything. They give me strength I didn't know I had. My girls have redefined so many things for me- beauty, joy, excitement, adventure, beauty, love, to name a few. But most of all, they have completely and totally redefined <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">me</span>. And I really like this version of me, the mamma version. I think I am just mostly overwhelmed at God's goodness and love. </div><div><br /></div><div>I think the farmers market has started again. I'm thinking I will have to go buy some produce and flowers. Who knows? If its nice I might even wear a pretty sun dress and cowgirl boots. </div><div><br /></div><div>Don't ever underestimate the power of a woman.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>kalihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06755948726063673163noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284282520984230812.post-35962168401363617492010-04-03T15:47:00.000-07:002010-04-03T16:50:16.810-07:00B is for BrazenI feel like my life is made up of all these different categories and elements. And I like to have them in some sort of order. I like to know where each one fits and how each ones aligns with who I am. That is how I am most comfortable. But lately, I am feeling like someone took all the individual parts, threw them in the monkey barrel, shook it all up, and poured them out all over the place- leaving me to run around like a mad woman trying to make sense of things again. Having no clue how to create order in the chaos, I find myself looking to God. Well, sort of.<div><br /></div><div>I am suddenly highly aware of myself. Does that make sense? Like, I'm a 25 year old, single mom of two daughters. I get that. But I am also on my own. I go to bed on my own. I wake up on my own. I brush my teeth and look at myself in the mirror and say, "This is you, Kali. This is your life. This is what you look like when you brush your teeth." I find myself grabbing at happy bits of childhood, like somehow they can give me some kind of indication of who I am today. I read my daily devotional and it feels a bit like rhetoric, but I'm looking for God to beam down instructions for who I am and how I am supposed to live my life. I drink a beer or two with women that I admire, probing them for advice on how to be. If I find anything I thoroughly enjoy, I do lots of it, hoping I am learning something certain about myself. Sometimes, I willingly do something completely reckless because the consequences make me feel like I am alive. Maybe I am just a typical twenty-something. I think this might be part of the price I pay for having a child when I was 18. There is all this figuring out to do while you are in your early twenties...</div><div><br /></div><div>I've been mulling over anything and everything. Like, how much money is too much money to spend on appearances? How will I handle things when a guy comes on to me? I can't do everything I would like to, as a mother, so which things are most important? What has my mother taught me about who I am? My father? What does God think about me? How do I feel about my body image, and is that appropriate? Is it okay for me to buy myself sexy underwear even if I am the only one who ever sees it? I really want a huge tattoo on my arm, but is that something I will regret? Will it send the wrong message to potential employers? Should I care? Could I wait for my husband, even though I have sort of crossed the point of no return in the sex department? Can a girl like me reclaim herself like that? I wonder what it would take to get into the best shape of my life... where do I start?</div><div><br /></div><div>Do you see what I mean? IT. IS. EXHAUSTING. </div><div><br /></div><div>Try being my friend!!! Bless their well meaning hearts... :o)</div><div><br /></div><div>Today, lacking the energy to pray, I just asked God a question. And He answered. </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">You get to choose.</span></div><div><br /></div><div>Really God? That's it? I get to choose? Well, why the heck did you make me so indecisive? I can barely pick out toilet paper, let alone major life defining/individual sculpting choices. Why can't I be like <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">those</span> women? You know which ones I am talking about. They are fiercely themselves, making no apologies, just living out who they are and enjoying it. They have this pull about them, their self-certainty is so attractive. How does one achieve that? How do I reconcile who I have been, who I am now, and who I want to be?</div><div><br /></div><div>Jesus blessed the adulteress. Maybe if I could see Jesus, touch his hands, maybe then I could feel pure again, like I could live free of it all. Maybe if He walked up to me, blessed me, and with his sweet voice told me to go and sin no more, maybe then I would feel like I have the power to be different. Instead, there is this little quickening in my spirit, and once sentence, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">you get to choose.</span></div><div><br /></div><div>I'm a grown up. A full fledged, on my own, make my own decisions and decide who I want to be grown up. And I am also in charge of raising two little girls. And I have an obligation to my husband, wherever or whoever he is... because I need to respect him and remain loyal to him, even in this time. If I share something, you must promise not to laugh....</div><div><br /></div><div>I talk to him. I ask him, "Would you like a tattoo?" Or if the best song ever is on my radio, I sing it loud and wonder if he likes the song too. Living as a human trying to live for God is tough. It ain't easy being green. But the unlimited possibilities, the freedom to make a choice, that is one of the most beautiful parts of Jesus' life, death, and resurrection. </div><div><br /></div><div>Happy Easter. </div>kalihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06755948726063673163noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284282520984230812.post-3462076218929844752010-04-01T20:57:00.000-07:002010-04-01T21:10:39.774-07:00The first of April<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4aoMjWr_HiaP_tnlAwFiGgIchfm0CKf1bAMoZdcQ2VeMQS5WWTx6oh6ZEwR-C9j8Z4uxrJXNozF8UJaxP43YtIUtNV8SdIINyhPnje8t8CbSeUPM6oGRTHYTgq5ezDomyqRWqsa0WTH8/s1600/1a11.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 306px; height: 306px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4aoMjWr_HiaP_tnlAwFiGgIchfm0CKf1bAMoZdcQ2VeMQS5WWTx6oh6ZEwR-C9j8Z4uxrJXNozF8UJaxP43YtIUtNV8SdIINyhPnje8t8CbSeUPM6oGRTHYTgq5ezDomyqRWqsa0WTH8/s400/1a11.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455384850819184210" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">I'm wooing you with a pretty picture. (source unknown) <br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">This weekend <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">has to be</span> a productive weekend. For starters, I have been applying for jobs. I recently interviewed for a job with a social service organization- which primarily works with children and families... and to say I really want the job is an understatement! I'm hoping and praying that it all works out. I will land somewhere eventually.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">And</span>, there is a big project in the works!!!! I feel like it is going to be so much fun!!! This little project has been waiting patiently for my life to free up a bit. It is a long time in the making. Check back here soon for the official unveiling! You'll be glad you did. :o)</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I'm putting the final touches on that pretty bathroom. I know, it has been FOREVER. But it is almost ready for the close up. I have just realized that I have a TON of painting to do. Walls, trim, furniture, walls, walls, furniture... but the end result will be beautiful. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Spring is here, and it is lovely. I love Spring. </div>kalihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06755948726063673163noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284282520984230812.post-18107786090029075582010-03-19T18:54:00.000-07:002010-03-19T19:33:11.228-07:00Charlie the cowgirlToday was a monumental day! It was Charlotte's first time riding a horse all by herself!! We are in Oklahoma, at my mom's house. Her house, for my girls, is as great as any vacation. Horses. A four wheeler. A playground. A forest. A lake. Boats.... SO MUCH FUN!<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmq4jxYXSEJu874L4_KRP8v5FHx7VJSDOEGIg7EXKcvBDhBKj4H8UGYVA2b7XWtt8O9OmUFtLzkLIBU2noqZ6nUyl4V598kOQM4UKyLu758xmoorWUFpqAaRo8hh71Y9EGcXjoS0f-N7o/s1600-h/horses+004-2.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5450534135252593330" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmq4jxYXSEJu874L4_KRP8v5FHx7VJSDOEGIg7EXKcvBDhBKj4H8UGYVA2b7XWtt8O9OmUFtLzkLIBU2noqZ6nUyl4V598kOQM4UKyLu758xmoorWUFpqAaRo8hh71Y9EGcXjoS0f-N7o/s400/horses+004-2.jpg" /></a> Being Brooklyn's first spring break, I had to do something. <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">Nicco</span> (my little brother) is her very best buddy. Riding horses is her very favorite thing. Naturally, this was her most favorite place to go.<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh39jl9_ejxXQy6oGenBB3cTRSrDjlZdRGVBc30NnI5SG4xjn4CNIpFDhRKOTnQ1jpxpd5xj8e8bksvY00AeHFEkr3y0L02x4uJQ6o41hyphenhyphenWQmVn_qMU-FUN94qLIaxa8Pz45q6WN5O8V-Q/s1600-h/horses+002-2.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5450534125587829074" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh39jl9_ejxXQy6oGenBB3cTRSrDjlZdRGVBc30NnI5SG4xjn4CNIpFDhRKOTnQ1jpxpd5xj8e8bksvY00AeHFEkr3y0L02x4uJQ6o41hyphenhyphenWQmVn_qMU-FUN94qLIaxa8Pz45q6WN5O8V-Q/s400/horses+002-2.jpg" /></a> The weather was absolutely beautiful today. Like- perfect. And Wall-E and Eva were especially well behaved.<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilDfJ7bxMmU056RdXljMqxqlvU5_Ilibi6km3UZexq8EjgdIXAgGRH7fQKTisHUry7seobIx8iOCwIRlZMqLTyjkYrZnVq9aOQiZWbuLrWpw2ZHgFIHhy51XZ6Y8A3-rhXDVuLSAASe3w/s1600-h/horses+001-2.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5450534118052487074" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilDfJ7bxMmU056RdXljMqxqlvU5_Ilibi6km3UZexq8EjgdIXAgGRH7fQKTisHUry7seobIx8iOCwIRlZMqLTyjkYrZnVq9aOQiZWbuLrWpw2ZHgFIHhy51XZ6Y8A3-rhXDVuLSAASe3w/s400/horses+001-2.jpg" /></a><br />It is official. Three generations of cowgirls. I wish these horses weren't four hours away. It would be so nice to just zip on over and let the girls ride any time they would like...</div><div> </div><div>Since Brooklyn was just a bun in the oven, I have dreamt of the day I would own my own farmhouse and we would have our own horses. I'm trying to be patient. :o)</div><div> </div><div>Tomorrow we are going antiquing/junking. I will be sure and share finds!</div><div> </div><div>Hope your spring breaks are lovely and full of sunshine! (despite the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">forecast</span> for snow...)<br /><br /></div><div></div></div>kalihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06755948726063673163noreply@blogger.com0